I have convinced myself
That chaos follows me
As if a companion
Or a stalker I can not shake
Until today’s revelation
That it is merely disorder
Of my own orderly creation
Like the roiling waters
Left in the wake
Of a vessel underway
And I am always underway
Though always looking back
Focused on the havoc
Left behind
In the lives of self and others
Manufacturing in my mind
The spiritual narrative
Of a Job-like tragedy
That relieves me of responsibility
Magic is a child
This unknown girl
Who casts upon
My weary soul
Unfettered glee
The guileless love
Which is delight
In briefest moment
Such sweet respite
From adult cares
Her master class
In living well
Perched
Beneath a sky
Of cobalt and lavender
While the dying sun
Throws glitter bombs
Off glass towers
But all I can see
Are three dots
Racing on the display
“Jason is typing”
This Schrödinger’s mobile
Holds two truths
Like petals pulled from a daisy
Each dot flashing in turn
He loves me
He loves me not
Both are true
Until the dots stop
To reveal the nature
Of the final petal
These many lines
Of thought
Of action
Of possibility
Some converging
Some parallel
Some intersecting
A disorder
Of subtler
Orders
Patterns
Within patterns
Within a cross-section
Of a whole
Imperceptible
Step back
And back again
To reveal the whole
With its harmony of line
I look at myself
A blur
In the foggy mirror
Every morning
Even after washing away
Another layer
Of accumulated detritus
Like the sculptor
Finding the figure
Inside the stone
Like a cathedral
Not yet complete
A hundred years
After the passing
Of its architects
I remain a work in progress
Under construction
In this life
In the last
In the next
All that have been
And all yet to come
I knew the wolf
To be a wolf
But in the forest
He was kind to me
So did not think
To give a shout
Let Grandma know
Wolf was about
April fool, tis me
No fool
The Woodsman, he
Fortunately
Or for dessert
Wolf would have had
Me
The ebb
Of tides and life
Reveals the glories concealed
By full flood
No matter the words you say
No matter the things you do
All paths lead to you
A golden destination
Partially concealed
In unfathomable
Possibility
Spirit cracks
Inner light
Pierces darkness
Reminds conscious
Extant spirit
I lose myself in the sea
In the sounds of the waves
Breaking against the rocks
And the subtler susurrus
Of foamy water
Climbing then falling
The shallow sandy shoreline
The tiny boats
I make from the thoughts
I no longer want to have
Recede with the dying waves
To be consumed by the surf
I prepare more
With all the parts of me
I never asked for
Or cannot be rid of
And watch as they glide gently
Into roiling oblivion
I am free
For the duration
Of an ebb tide
Soon enough
The flood comes
The inexorable sea
Returns them all to me
Pix to Words 